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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30032133">inquiries into subtle devotion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusianviolet/pseuds/venusianviolet'>venusianviolet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Castlevania (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(kind of), (yet), Angst, Character Study, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Relationship Study, Romance, Smut, Trepha, Vignette, bending the rules of magic a little bit, i love the way these two interact honestly, mostly studying their interactions, spicy but no sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:14:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30032133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusianviolet/pseuds/venusianviolet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It is their first real moment of understanding, where Trevor realizes the sheer magnitude of Sypha’s warmth—the open, communal kind taught by the Speakers—and Sypha understands the depth of his sadness. She is impossibly warm at his side, yet it’s where she isn’t touching him that Trevor burns. // (ongoing collection of trepha vignettes)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. inquiries into subtle devotion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wanted to write more trepha but wanted to challenge myself to a word limit because i feel as if i've been over-describing things in my work lately. i wanted to see how i could take 1,000 words and use them for character study based on already canon content and some made up things. hope you enjoy :) p.s. google docs claims this piece is 1,000 words even, but ao3 claims it is 1010... so bear this in mind!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A certain kind of closeness afforded to Trevor Belmont in his younger years gives him the capacity to show affection, in one way or another, but it always seems to come out wrong; after all, he’d spent more years alone than with company, so it was only natural he would forget things like being touched. More specifically <em> proximity </em>to touch.</p><p>Deep underground in the Belmont Hold, in the small hours of the night where sounds echo just beyond the light’s reach, Sypha approaches Trevor in the dark, a frown etched upon her face.</p><p>“Are you okay?” He asks. It’s the only thing he can think to say.</p><p>“Tired.” She responds.</p><p>“...Sleep then.”</p><p>“A… bit lonely,” she confesses. For the first time in a long time, distance wounds him.</p><p>“My dusty old sheet is big enough for two,” he states, offering his arm to her, “and nobody was ever lonely in this house.”</p><p>It is their first real moment of understanding, where Trevor realizes the sheer magnitude of Sypha’s warmth—the open, communal kind taught by the Speakers—and Sypha understands the depth of his sadness. She is impossibly warm at his side, yet it’s where she <em> isn’t </em>touching him that Trevor burns.</p>
<hr/><p>There comes a night during their travels that Sypha is changing out the bandages on her right shoulder—from the wound she sustained when she seared her gaping flesh closed, during the mighty battle with Dracula—where she happens to catch Trevor’s eye. She flashes him a smile, and peels her shirt off her back only to throw it in his face. What she doesn’t expect is for him to cower behind it, a blush creeping all the way to his ears.</p><p>“Speakers do not believe in modesty the way your people do,” she comments, stepping forward and nonchalantly placing a canteen of saltwater in his lap. “I don’t have full mobility yet, so—”</p><p>“It’s fine, just turn around, please,” Trevor manages, averting his gaze, cheeks flushed. He doesn’t even try to articulate that her bare chest and black armbands make him <em> feel </em>things.</p><p>So she turns, but not without a smug smile in place. There’s a moment where the only sound is their hands working in tandem to bandage her shoulder. When it is done, Sypha cups his cheek in thanks.</p><p>“Are you hurt, Trevor?” Sypha questions, brows furrowing in concern. Her hand doesn’t move.</p><p>“I have a few broken ribs that are still healing but—what are you doing?” Trevor questions defensively, backing away from the magic concentrated in Sypha’s extended fingertips.</p><p>“I will take care of you, so hold still,” she commands. Although her magic speeds up the healing in his ribs, the ache in his chest is from his stubborn heart, not a broken bone.</p><p>“<em> You </em>will take care of me?” Trevor scoffs, amused by her boldness.</p><p>“I will <em> always </em>take care of you.” Sypha declares this with a frightening conviction.</p><p>Her casual affection is an unending assault on his heart he can no longer bear to live without.</p>
<hr/><p>Sypha comes to love kissing the scar over Trevor’s eye. Often, she traces her thumb over it, as if meaning to erase the burden of its source. One night, as their campfire is dwindling, he presses a tender kiss to the scarred flesh of her shoulder, a mirrored response to her little gesture of affection—an attempt to erase its story. It’s a kiss of gratitude, his way of thanking her for her courage.</p><p>He thanks her not for being brave enough to fight monsters or to punish wrongdoers, but for allowing him to be by her side all the while.</p>
<hr/><p>Sypha attracts sad men of all works and wonders. Trevor, Alucard, and now Saint Germain—they were all sad men, and somehow she could not refuse their sad company. She’s lying against Trevor’s chest, trying to explain to him that Saint Germain is lonely (the same way he once was, she doesn’t mention). The strange thing is, it works.</p><p>Except Trevor isn’t lonely anymore—not by Sypha’s side, where trust is so easy. His anger at the world (at <em> himself) </em> subsides long enough for him to accept love when she’s near. Perhaps then, she could do the same for Saint Germain.</p><p>She suggests that they help him, even when he knows already that this is what she has been trying to say. He brushes a lock of hair away from her cheek. The same way she helped him she always wants to help others and, well, he could never sit back and let her do it alone.</p><p>Trevor doesn’t understand her willingness to help people so desperate and miserable, but Sypha’s smile reminds him that there are still people worth protecting. “Did we fall out of our story into someone else’s story… again?” he wonders, his face softening.</p><p>Sypha mirrors his expression. “Silly. It’s <em> all </em>our story,” she whispers, so sincerely that for a moment Trevor wonders how he ever managed to cope with years of absence.</p><p>“I hope I get to live long enough to see how it ends,” he remarks. They sink into each other’s bodies, contentedly unsure of where one ends and one begins. What matters not is how they are touching, or where, but only the simple fact that it is the two of them there together, sharing the same bed, indulging in the same closeness. He doesn’t say it, but it is where Trevor feels most whole.</p>
<hr/><p>“I want you to be with me,” Sypha wonders aloud. It’s not the first time she’s said those words, so he props himself up on his arm in their makeshift wagon-bed, intending to probe further.</p><p>Trevor moves to embrace her once more, murmuring slowly in the intimate space between them. “You want me again?”</p><p>Either oblivious or ignorant—Trevor can’t tell which—Sypha stares at him blankly. “No, I want you to be with me,” she repeats. Her shimmering eyes, so genuine and pure, melt every shred of confusion inside him.</p><p>“I am already yours,” he professes, like she’d always known this.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. these small days of our patient efforts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>To his surprise Sypha cups his cheek, leaning closer. She likes watching him become unsettled by this gesture, likes watching him try to comprehend her.</p>
<p>“No, wait—” Trevor starts. She tilts her head, puzzled. “You don’t have to stop,” he mumbles softly.</p>
<p>Sypha feels her heart squeeze, unbidden.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was supposed to be just one writing exercise on vignettes... but now i suppose i enjoy writing trepha vignettes quite a whole lot! not much to say here. this set is more sypha-centric. please note the change in rating; spicy content up ahead. (i suppose i couldn't resist throwing in a bit of nsfw content with these vignettes i've been writing...)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Love appears in many Speaker myths and legends, yet Sypha cannot recall having felt anything similar until the battle of Gresit. Trevor Belmont, the disgruntled man who reeks of piss, blood, and beer, ends up proving himself something of a hero—someone worthy of her protection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Underground, when Alucard bares his fangs at Trevor, she’s quick to come to his defense. “I will incinerate you before your fangs touch</span>
  <em>
    <span> that man’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>throat,” Sypha hisses, vicious (tempered) flame magic pointed at his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In that moment, she’d have chosen Trevor first. Somehow, Sypha understands this as the humble beginnings of their story.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>As it turns out, Alucard sleeps, but only sometimes. Sypha uses these small hours to enjoy Trevor too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The firelight’s shadows give the illusion that his scar is set deeper within his face. It was only a phantom, she tells herself—a lingering memory of something he’d probably rather forget. Sypha’s tentative hand hovers in the space between them. As much as she is patient, she’s also stubborn. Before she can touch his face, Trevor’s hand swiftly catches her wrist. He makes no move to reject her, only looks at her with a low, lidded stare, and he’s not annoyed, but… wary? Apprehensive? Sypha wonders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think you’re doing?” He means to intimidate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gives a hopeful pout. “Studying you.” She responds. Trevor releases her wrist, the flesh of his neck tense. To his surprise Sypha cups his cheek, leaning closer. She likes watching him become unsettled by this gesture, likes watching him try to comprehend </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His breath quickens when she smooths her thumb over his scar just once before retreating her hand again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, wait—” Trevor starts. She tilts her head, puzzled. “You don’t have to stop,” he mumbles softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sypha feels her heart squeeze, unbidden.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The morning after she falls asleep on his arm, Sypha blinks awake in a daze; she had drifted off and forgotten they were in the Belmont Hold, but not before elbowing Trevor square in his ribs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning </span>
  <em>
    <span>sunshine,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Trevor growls, his voice still thick with sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sypha apologizes in between a good laugh. “Sorry about that, I was just so comfortable,” she teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For once, though, his scowl dissipates; he actually smiles, says to her, “You’ve got one strong arm,” and his eyes soften, gazing through her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like there was never a time they didn’t wake up like this.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p><span>Somehow, she manages to convince him to train her, and somehow, this becomes a thing Sypha uses to gain the upper hand in their childish game of temptation,</span> <span>where she is able to easily overwhelm Trevor with a slip of her bare leg, or by biting her lip hungrily, </span><em><span>innocently, </span></em><span>testing him until she is sure he wants it too.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>One day he snaps, flipping her to his chest with an arm around her middle and a hand over her mouth, </span>
  <em>
    <span>reprimanding </span>
  </em>
  <span>her, “You can seduce </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> not your enemies. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Focus.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She licks his hand, but her face is thoroughly flushed.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She does, in fact, seduce him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, it’s more like this: one night during a particularly brutal snowstorm they must take refuge in a cave, and Trevor is a human heater while Sypha’s so cold her teeth chatter from her shivering, and so she suggests playfully (maybe only half-joking) that they both get naked. Except Trevor actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>start to strip—and Sypha, blushing all the way to her ears, proclaims his full name at full volume, before he hushes her with one finger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What on Earth are you doing?!” Sypha simultaneously half-whispers, half-shouts. To her dismay, his stripping stops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I have to hear that god awful shivering all night I’m not going to get a wink of sleep,” Trevor averts his gaze to the ground now, voice dropping , “and we’ve slept together before, so…” he trails off, crossing his arms and huffing not much unlike an impatient child. He means </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>sleeping, of course.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sypha’s stare is drawn to his chest, all rippled muscle and twitching bands of flesh that look very enticing (very </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span>), and she is absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>freezing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so she throws herself at him, practically burrowing into his chest, and takes great pleasure in hearing him cry out in shock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>God </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re cold! A little </span>
  <em>
    <span>warning </span>
  </em>
  <span>next time might be nice!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he pulls her into an embrace. Trevor’s body is hot to the touch, enough to make Sypha’s skin tingle and gooseflesh form on her arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sypha undoes her cowl and lets it fall unceremoniously, lulling her hips into his hands. She’d have mistaken his delicacy for politeness, but only if his hands around her waist hadn’t also boldly reached for two handfuls of her ass. Trevor drags the tips of his fingers up her back; his calluses tickle, and the way his fingers ghost over her skin makes Sypha feel like she’s floating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll keep you warm,” he soothes, drawing another shiver up her spine. Trevor lies Sypha onto her back on his old fur, stripping the rest of her without haste. Crawling over her and nudging a (disappointingly clothed) knee between her legs, he kisses her cheek, asking permission.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kiss me properly, Trevor,” she commands, so he does, again and again, pausing between his careful kisses. When he palms her breasts, Sypha hums in satisfaction, reveling in how they fit perfectly in his big hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trevor reluctantly decides to only use his hands on her. Sypha discovers, while in his arms, she is a glutton for pleasure. When he rubs circles with his thumb over her clit she bucks her hips up into his, and his free hand is always there to hold her down, to make sure she feels every second of stimulation. At times he sucks on her neck, a trail of bruises following all the way to her thighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the aftermath, she sneaks her icy foot between his legs and draws it up along his calf, jolting and exciting him all the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She appreciates his tolerance for mischief.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i hope you love this as much as i loved writing it &lt;3 also thank you for all the kind comments under my work, truly brought so many smiles to my face this past week when i needed it most. thank you for all the love, really!! thank you!!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if u liked this leave kudos, or a comment, or anything -- i appreciate feedback beyond words!! also, i have lots of trepha smut in my drafts for whatever reason, but i wanted to break the cycle by publishing something sfw... however i appreciate the love on ALL my works equally!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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